“I can’t get through upstairs. Maybe Lucky isn’t up there anymore.”
I reach into my back pocket and pull out my cell phone. “That’s it. I’m calling my sister. I’m not playing this game anymore. You guys can find yourself another freelancer to help you with your marine case or whatever it’s called.”
He sighs. “Your cell won’t work in here.”
I look up at him, suspicious. “Why not?”
“Because this is a panic room. The walls are three feet thick. No signals get in or out.” He tilts his head very slightly toward the phone on the wall, letting me know that this ancient piece of junk is our only mode of communication with the outside world.
Unfortunately, I’ve seen just about every bad-guy action movie there is, and I know for a fact that all you need to take down that piece-of-crap wall phone is a damn pair of scissors to cut the outside line. We’re doomed. Doomed!
I throw my hands up in frustration. “Well, that’s just dandy, isn’t it? What am I supposed to do now? Just sit here and wait for someone to come kill me?”
He doesn’t answer me. He just stares.
I look around the place to avoid catching his eye. It’s making my blood pressure go nutty to have him focusing on me like that. “You must be crazy if you think that I’m going to sit here in your little Hotel California panic room and relax while you guys play cops and robbers outside.”
“This isn’t a game, Jenny. This is serious. And until I know what’s going on out there, you’re not going anywhere.” His voice is softer. Mesmerizing, almost.
I put my hands on my hips, turning my attention back to him, giving him my full-on angry mom stare.
“I’ll have you know that I am very familiar with the laws of this state, and I know for a fact that you can’t keep me in here if I don’t want to be in here. That’s called false imprisonment, buddy, and I’m not going to stand for it.”
He raises what would be an eyebrow at me, except that he has no eyebrow there. It still works to express the challenge he’s throwing out at me, though. “Is that so?”
I stick my chin out. “Yes, that is so.”
He gestures at the door. “Go ahead, then. See yourself out.”
“Fine. I will.” Yes, I’m scared that I’m walking out into a bad situation, but not scared enough that I’m going to back down. I’ll show him who’s the boss of me. I can hide in a cubicle. No problem. My cell will work out there, and I’ll dial 911 and get the real cops over here, not these Bourbon Street Butthead wannabe cops.
I walk over to put my hand on the door, but there’s no knob there, just a keypad. I chew on my lip and stare at it. Do I remember the code he entered? No. I do not. Dammit.
I turn around. “You need to unlock the door for me.”
“Sorry, but I can’t do that.”
“What do you mean, you can’t do that?”
He shrugs. “We have protocols in place for these types of scenarios, and the protocol for alien entry with a civilian inside the warehouse requires that one of us secure the civilian and wait for contact from the outside before we open the door. And I was the lucky guy who happened to be standing with the civilian when the threat presented itself.” He smiles at me with that damn dimple.
“Protocols? Aliens?” I turn back around to face the door and smack it. Then I start pressing random buttons on the keypad. “Protocols, my big, fat butt. I have things to do and places to go, so your protocols need to step aside, Buckrod.”
“Your butt isn’t that fat.”
My hand freezes in mid-button-pressing. I slowly turn. “Are you kidding me?” He’s seriously going to talk about my butt now? He must want to die.
He shrugs. “A couple months with me, and I’ll have you sporting a six-pack under that blouse.”
My jaw drops open and just hangs there. I’m speechless. And it takes a lot to render me speechless, trust me.
“Why don’t you just take a seat for a little while, and we’ll wait and see if we receive contact?”
I stare at him like he’s crazy, because he obviously is. Finally, my throat unlocks to let my voice free. “First of all, don’t talk about my butt! You don’t even know me! And second of all, you expect me to just sit here for hours on end while we wait for someone to maybe call us? How do you know that they even know we’re in here? They’re probably out there wondering what the heck we’re doing! They probably think we just went for a stroll somewhere. They’re probably all sitting around waiting for us to come back.”